


A Hell Of A Lot Can Happen In Three Weeks

by Bunnywest



Series: Rabbit verse [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Explicit Consent, M/M, References to Knotting, Safe Sane and Consensual, Tattooed Stiles Stilinski, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Wedding Planning, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-05 22:45:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11023158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: In which a hell of a lot can happen in three weeks. And that’s not including the wedding night.





	1. Bagged me a hot wolf, motherfuckers!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry people. I swear this was going to be a little fluffy thing about how Stiles proposed. Peter fucked me over.   
> At least it's all written, so I know how it ends.( Hint. see tags)  
> There's not even (hardly) any sex in it, just gratuitous amounts of plot. (That may change if I write an epilogue though)

“Peter”

“Peter”

Nudge.

”Peter!”

Stiles’ tone is more insistent now, but still Peter resists opening his eyes.

 After knotting last night, and the emotional declarations of love and affection that followed, he’s completely drained, and his muscles feel like he’s been swimming through mud. 

“Wake up Wolfman, it’s _important “_   Stiles insists.

Peter steadfastly refuses to move or even acknowledge he’s heard anything. He’s asleep and you can’t prove otherwise, he thinks.

He hears Stiles huff, and grumble under his breath “Fine, I didn’t want to ask you anyway, asshole.”

His eyes open at that, his curiosity piqued, and he sees Stiles propped up on one elbow next to him on the bed, gazing at him with a look of affection, eyes bright with mischief.

“Ha! Knew you were awake !” he crows.

Peter groans dramatically and throws his arm up over his eyes.

“Sweetheart, I love you, but _why exactly_ are you waking me up when it’s still early and I’m exhausted?’ he inquires, sounding a distinctly cranky.

“Firstly, it’s nearly lunchtime, and secondly, because  I thought we could play 20 questions?” Stiles asks hopefully, and really, that grin should be outlawed because there’s no resisting it, Peter thinks, as he accepts the inevitable and opens his eyes fully.

“We can always play twenty questions, my love” he replies, and _Love,_  how nice that sounds coming out of his mouth, and he wonders why he didn’t say it earlier, didn’t _see_ it earlier.

Stiles takes a deep breath, almost like he’s nervous, and asks “You’re sure you love me?”

Peter just looks at him.

He replies “Stiles, I don’t know how you could ever have thought anything else. I think I’ve loved you since you put together that ridiculous library display, and I only wish I’d told you sooner. I just assumed you knew, and didn’t feel the same.”

“Jesus Peter, that’s really smooth. How am I meant to follow that? I had a whole thing planned with the questions, but fuck it. Marry me?” 

The joy that lights up Peter’s face is answer enough, but he says yes anyway.

Stiles fist pumps, and he crows “Aw yeah, bagged me a hot wolf, motherfuckers!”

It’s such a juvenile response that Peter snorts, before kissing Stiles stupid.

“My turn for a question” he grins, once they come up for air. “Long engagement, short engagement, public spectacle the likes of which Beacon Hills has never seen, quickie wedding in Vegas, European trip for the honeymoon or a week here alone and naked, Stilinski-Hale or Hale-Stilinski, and will you wear white? And I liked your proposal, by the way, rabbit. Short and to the point.”

 

Stiles gapes at him.

 

 Peter confesses. “I might have been thinking about this a little overnight…I was going to ask you. ”

They’re both grinning like absolute loons now.

Peter goes to speak, but Stiles hold up his hand as he formulates his answers.

“Ok, let’s see. Short engagement, like Britney short. Small to medium wedding,but no slinking off to Vegas. Wanna show my hot man off and we need to invite the pack anyway, Scott will never forgive me if he isn’t best man. Week in the cabin for the honeymoon. Europe next year. Definitely Stilinski-Hale, sounds better, and I’m wearing a red suit because fuck convention.”

He takes in Peter’s stunned expression and defends himself with “What? I’ve been awake for _six hours_ thinking about this man, and there was no waking you up, so I might have done some planning…” and he grabs his phone and shows Peter the web pages he’s bookmarked with suits, venues, catering, flowers, photographers, celebrants……he was on a roll, ok?

Then Stiles pulls up a calendar on his phone, muttering to himself about Scott’s filming schedule being a royal pain in his ass, and zeros in on a date. “Scotty has a break in filming in three weeks. It’s that or eight months.”

 

 (It’s still a source of constant amusement to Stiles that Scotty, with his earnest brown eyes and crooked smile, had somehow shot to fame as a fucking _TV Vet_ of all things. He’d been happily working in his large animal practice, using his Were strength and Alpha voice to subdue the more difficult animals, when in a series of events worthy of daytime TV, he’d stopped his car to help someone corral their horse that had run onto the highway.  He’d leapt smoothly onto the back of the snorting, stamping beast, all ripped biceps and heaving chest, because somewhere along the line he’d got buff,  and _honest to god horse whispered it_.  The animal had immediately calmed, and walked sedately back into the horse trailer it had broken free from, with Scott still on its back.  It was an amazing sight.

 Stiles knew, because he’d seen the original YouTube clip when it went viral. 

And suddenly, Scott was on Ellen, Scott was on the Late Show, Scott was on Carpool Karaoke with James Corden, and every time he was interviewed, his natural charm seemed to amplify.

Add to that the fact that he was a True Alpha (and didn’t the media just love that?) and really, it should have been no surprise when he was offered his own show, A cross between pet care education and information, and On the Road type specials, where he flew across the country to help Mrs Donovan Calm Her Irish Wolfhound.

Scott was famous as AlphaVet.

The public lapped it up. Scott received, on average, six marriage proposals a week via social media and fan mail. Stiles thought it was hysterical.)

 

 

Right. Three weeks it is, then.

But first they need to tell everyone else.

 

Stiles calls his Dad, who’s thrilled. He hears Jordan in the background calling out his congratulations in a sleep roughened voice, and Stiles suddenly suspects they aren’t the only ones who had a wild night and a lazy Sunday morning in bed. The smirk on Peter’s face tells him that he suspects the same thing.

He calls Scott in LA to confirm that his friend will be best man, and Scott cries, because he’s Scott, because he’s happy for Stiles, but also because he’s happy for Peter, who’s still part of his pack.  He has to hang up so he can go get his tear streaked face repaired before the camera rolls.

Peter calls Derek and Cora, both off somewhere around the globe doing God knows what, and Stiles can hear the sincerity in their congratulations.  Neither of them seems surprised that Peter is actually getting married. Derek comments “about damned time, Peter” and Peter laughs and agrees with him.

 

And after a lazy lunch spent debating chicken or fish at the reception, cake flavours, music choices (No Stiles, you are not walking up the aisle to “Werewolves of London, Jesus!”) and putting together a rough and ready guest list, they roll back into bed where Peter spends the afternoon sucking marks all over Stiles’ body, murmuring “Mine, all mine” to himself and smiling.

Stiles just lays there and lets himself be used as a human canvas – they both know then won’t do more than this today, Stiles still aching from Peter’s knot and Peter too exhausted to even try for anything further, but it’s still achingly sensual, and the way Peter looks so enamoured of the marks on his young fiance’s body makes Stiles’ mind start working, thinking of ways to keep that look there.

It’s two weeks and four days to their wedding when it all turns to shit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles knows, on an intellectual level, that Peter has some morally grey areas, OK?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny, but important chapter. I'm sorry.

Stiles knows, on an intellectual level, that Peter has some morally grey areas, OK?He’s the first to admit that his fiancé has a checkered past - hell, they’ve tried to kill each other more than once.

 But he likes to think they’ve put all that behind them now, and that Peter is one of the good guys. 

So the call, when it comes, is a shock.

He’s in the lunch room at work when he hears his phone go off, the ringtone of ‘Moondance’ alerting him that it’s Peter.

He smiles, announcing gleefully to the girls in the room at large , “oh, it’s just my _fiancé_ “ before answering the call, grinning.

He goes pale, and the smile drops off his face.

They hear him ask “What? For how long? I’m coming home, give me ten minutes.”

And looking shaken, he stands up, grabs his bag, tells the girls he has to go, and to lock up for him, and he’s gone.

 

He gets home just as Peter finishes packing.

 Stiles can’t help but notice that everything in that suitcase screams “Assassin”. Black shirt, black boots, black combat pants, black throwing knives with gleaming silver blades, black pistol, black wolfsbane coated bullets, black gloves, even a black fucking beanie.

He also can’t help but notice the stiff set of Peter’s shoulders, the way his movements are quick and efficient, such a contrast to his normal fluid grace.

Peter’s on a mission.

Even as he goes to speak, Peter speaks first.

“I have to go, Stiles. We have a pack alliance, and I’m obliged to help them”.

“By being their hired muscle? That’s fucking bullshit Peter! What if you get hurt? What if you get _killed_?” Stiles bursts out, because he can’t imagine carrying on without Peter.

“I’m going. All being well I’ll be back in time for the wedding,” Peter says, his voice emotionless.

“Well FINE!  You just _fuck off_ to your wolf mates and, and I’ll stay here and a plan a wedding that might never happen because you’ve gotten yourself KILLED, you asshole!” Stiles chokes out, but he’s not angry, he’s afraid, and his tears spill even as he strides cross the room and wraps himself across Peter’s rigid back.

He feels Peter tense under him, before relaxing and turning to face Stiles. He cups his face in his hands, and in a soft tone, says “Sweetheart, I have to. I’ll be safe. I have….experience in this. I’m good at it. I used to be proud of it” he says wryly.

“Please don’t make this harder for me, darling. If you don’t hear from me you know I’m OK. If something happens I promise they’ll call you. “

And he kisses Stiles goodbye and walks out the door.

 


	3. Drinking your feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He reminded himself that he hadn’t heard anything, and no news is good news.  
> Then he contemplated the fact that “Hey, if nobody calls, I’m probably still alive” was Peter’s idea of comforting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, you guys really want to know what happens next huh?  
> Are you sure about that? *hides*

Stiles wakes up feeling like utter crap.  Eight days ago he’d thought he had everything he wanted. A drop dead gorgeous fiance, a good job, his Dad settled and happy – life was good.

Now he’s possibly a widower, and can’t leave the house for work because he’s drunken himself stupid.

His head is pounding, a mix of hangover and sleep deprivation.

He opens one eyelid reluctantly when he smells coffee, and sees Parrish holding a cup out for him. The events of the evening before start to come back to him.

Fuck.

If a fit of (totally justified) self-pity, he’d called up his Dad, wailing and moaning about how he was going to be left at the altar, and why couldn’t he fall in love with a nice normal person, and if Peter came back , did that mean he'd be back to being a psychopath , and what was he meant to do if it did?

 

Five minutes in, his Dad had asked, “Son, how drunk are you exactly?” Which, fair point, he was pretty hammered.

 

His Dad had sighed and told him he was sending Jordan over to look after him, because after last week, he wasn’t to be trusted not to start drunk texting. Stiles wasn’t surprised to hear Jordan’s voice in the background, if the two men weren’t living together they may as well be.

So Parrish had come over, and distracted him with wedding planning stuff. Truth be told everything was pretty much ready to go, just a few final details to be finalized - like whether the groom was still alive, but Stiles tried not to go there.

He failed, generally, but he tried.

He reminded himself that he hadn’t heard anything, and no news is good news.

Then he contemplated the fact that “hey, if nobody calls, I’m probably still alive” was Peter’s idea of comforting.

 

The end result of the evening was a giant hangover, a floor full of sloppily made paper flowers, because drunk Stiles plus Pinterest, and a conversation with Jordan over whether hellhounds could knot, and had he done his Dad?

“Because man, Jordy, you gotta try it, that shit is amaaaaazing, just, lotsa lube, man, lotsa lotsa luuuuube, he’s gotta be fucking dripping.….”

 

 Double Fuck.

 

He groans as he takes the proffered cup, moaning  “Oh shit Jordan, I’m so, so, fucking sorry, just shoot me next time I open my mouth like that, OK?”

He sees that Parrish is blushing slightly, but he’s grinning, so Stiles hopes he won’t mention it to his Dad. He’s fully aware of the lines he's crossed even by asking , but drunk Stiles has no filter at all.

“It’s fine Stiles,” he assures him.

( He’s said the same thing each of the three times he’s had to come over after Stiles has fallen into his cups.) 

 

 

Stiles drags himself off to shower after finishing his coffee and downing a couple of ibuprofen.

 He doesn’t have work, having taken leave under the guise of “wedding preparations” but truth be told, he’s not really fit to function in public at the moment. He’s a nervous wreck, and spends his time swinging between anger at Peter for leaving and worry about whether he’ll come back.

 And what he’ll be like if he does.

A ~~large~~ tiny part of Stiles mind delights in reminding him about Peter the power hungry psychopath who killed his own niece. He wonders if whatever Peter’s doing now will trigger that part of him again, and he’ll come home a crazed killer. He’d said “helping another pack with some territory issues”- a nice, vague description, but Stiles saw what went into that bag.

It’s the contents of the bag that has Stiles drinking. Because what if whoever Peter’s facing has a bag of their own? And what if it’s bigger?

 

The wedding’s in ten days. At this rate Stiles will be in liver failure before then, and he has a sudden pang of sympathy for his father after his Mom had died, an insight into exactly why his Dad had fallen into the bottle in the months following their loss.

 Like father, like son, he thinks bitterly.

The same as all the other times he’s come over, Jordan’s made him breakfast by the time he emerges showered and dressed. He turns Stile’s phone back over to him, and Stiles once again thanks him for confiscating it the night before, although he hadn’t been happy about it at the time.

“He’ll be back, Stiles. It’s Peter Hale - he’s indestructible, remember?” Jordan says as he hugs Stiles before leaving.

 Stiles nods, smiles a watery smile, sees Jordan out, finishes his breakfast, promptly throws it all back up again, and crawls back under his blankets and into a ball of quietly sobbing misery.

 

When he wakes up two hours later, something’s different.

Stiles thinks it’s him.

Sometime while he was sleeping, his brain has rolled Jordan’s words over and over, and accepted the truth of them.

Stiles decides that as far as he’s concerned, the wedding’s on. Peter is fine. And he has a wedding to finish preparing for, and with only ten days till the big day,  he’d better get onto it.

He finalizes cake flavours.

He books haircuts for Peter and himself.

He chooses a beautiful soft graphite three piece suit for Peter to complement his red one. They’re both skinny lapel, slim cut numbers. Peter’s ass is going to look phenomenal, he thinks.

 

He makes one other appointment, for three days’ time.

 

The next morning he wakes to the sound of his phone buzzing and sees an unknown number.  He freaks the fuck out, because this is it.

Peter’s not coming back.


	4. Caller Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Mr Stilinski? Somebody get a glass of water, I think he’s going to pass out, breathe Mr Stilinski” he hears a voice saying, and he must have zoned out for a minute, because there are three or four people looking at him in concern, one holding out a glass of water, as he comes back to his surroundings.  
> He’s in shock.

The phone buzzes relentlessly in his hand, until with trembling fingers he swipes across and answers it with a shaky “hello?”

He hears a woman’s voice, asking to confirm his appointment at the solicitors across town later this morning.

“What appointment? Who is this?” he asks, a little slow on the uptake because nobody’s telling him Peter’s dead, so what else could this be?

”Apologies”, the lady is saying, “Mr Hale made this appointment for you to come and review some legal paperwork before your marriage, I’d assumed he would have told you”, and Stiles bites back his response of “No, the asshole’s busy off getting killed or worse”. 

He takes the details and promises to be there before hanging up. He’s starting to realise exactly how much Peter has been underplaying his net worth, so he figures it’s a pre-nup, and he’s surprisingly unfazed by that.

 

When he gets there, though, it’s the opposite. Peter had set up this appointment, leaving detailed instructions on what needed to be done. He’s already signed what he needed to. All Stiles has to do is add his signature.

His world goes a little grey around the edges

 

 

“Mr Stilinski? Somebody get a glass of water, I  think he’s going to pass out, breathe Mr Stilinski” he hears a voice saying, and he must have zoned out for a minute, because there are three or four people looking at him in concern, one  holding out a glass of water, as he comes back to his surroundings.

He’s in shock.

Peter’s paid off his dad’s house. (The asshole had categorized it as a “bride price“ in the paperwork)

Peter’s signed over ownership of Jungle to Stiles, under the business name ‘Little Rabbit Enterprises.’

He’s signed over BBW to Stiles, also under ‘Little Rabbit Enterprises’

Whatever happens to Peter, Stiles is now independently wealthy. He really doesn't care.

 As he struggles to take in what the solicitors are telling him, one of the ladies, (Martha? Megan? He couldn’t tell you at this point) hands him a sealed envelope, saying “Mr Hale was quite insistent we give you this to read alone. So here.”

She chases everyone out, leaving him alone with the letter.

He drinks the glass of water and looks at the envelope.

He fidgets, and looks at the envelope.

Stiles thinks that when Peter said he’d be safe, he was lying. That this is his goodbye letter.

He looks at it for ten minutes while he gathers the nerve to open it.

And finally, because he’s over not knowing, he opens it.

 

_Little Rabbit,_

Peter writes

_I know you think I’m dead. I’m not. If I was you’d be in a different office reading a different letter. That would be my will, and you’d be the sole beneficiary._

_You’re reading this letter in this office because as of this morning when I rang them to confirm your appointment, and dictate this letter’s contents, I was still alive._

_So unless it’s been an eventful couple of hours, sweetheart, I’ll be home soon._

_Definitely for the wedding._

_Probably._

_I hope you don’t mind me signing the businesses over to you._

_I know you don’t give a damn about money. It’s just one of the things I love about you.  But it makes me feel better knowing that you’ve got some security in case I ever get another one of these calls._

_I’m trying to put things in place so this is the last one I’ll ever get._

_Love you rabbit._

It’s simply signed

_Peter._

Stiles grins. Peter’s coming home.

He’s euphoric that Peter’s safe.

He thanks the solicitors for their help, and calls his Dad to tell him that he now owns his home.

Peter’s coming back.

____________________________________________

Stiles goes home and waits.

He waits the next day too, but he doesn’t mind. Eight days is plenty of time. It’s fine.

He spends his time reading what they lovingly call the Damn Book.

 “Hey Peter, are you _sure_ knotting won’t get me werewolf pregnant?”

“Read the damn book Stiles”

“Hey Peter, if Scott’s your Alpha, when we’re married will he be my Alpha? “

“Read the damn book Stiles”

 

He reads about marriage, and mating, and how they’re the same but different, how wolves only mate other wolves but marry humans.

He reads about a wolf’s need to provide for their chosen one, and understands and appreciates Peter’s purchase of Jungle a little more.

He reads about the average lifespan of a Werewolf, and thinks about two hundred years vs eighty five. It makes him sad.

He reads about Werewolf pack enforcers, the Left Hands, as they’re called, and suddenly Peter’s  strange collection of weapons makes sense, and Stiles understands why there was no way to avoid this trip.

He reads about werewolf marriage customs, about marking your mate, and thinks about his appointment, and smiles to himself, perking up at the thought of Peter's reaction.

 

He’s dozing on the big bed, sprawled on his belly, when he awakens to the sound of the front door slamming.

Peter’s home.

Stiles scrambles to sit up when Peter strides into the room in long, smooth steps, and oh, how Stiles has missed that, the grace, the strength, the sheer energy that is Peter Hale.

Peter’s pushing him back on the bed, kissing him hungrily, greedily, pinning him down as he attacks his mouth. His hands are running all over Stiles.

Stiles runs his own hands over Peter’s back , as if to reassure himself that it’s real, they’re both here.

He wraps his arms around Peter’s neck, muttering “Oh thank God, you’re OK, you made it back safe, missed you” and at that Peter’s attentions intensify, and  he’s nipping and biting at Stile’s neck, growling,  and he’s rutting against him, harder now.

Stiles’ body starts to respond, and he’s arching up into the contact, and they’re wearing way too many clothes for this, he thinks, but when he tries to push Peter away, muttering “Wait, Wolfman, gotta get naked”  he’s met with a growl that’s almost feral as Peter keeps holding him down rutting against his leg.

Something’s definitely off.

“Peter!” he cries out sharply, as the man continues to hump and grind against him, “Peter stop!”

Peter finally stops, shaking under the effort of it, before looking at Stiles with a feral gleam to his eye.

And this is all of Stile’s fears come to life, that Peter’s lost his sanity. But looking at the man in front of him, he thinks no, that’s not it, it’s something else.

“Peter?”

And Peter turns to him, shifting, changing, and as he lets out a low resonant growl, Stiles sees his eyes flash a brilliant red.

He growls out “ ** _Mine_** ” in a tone that Stiles has never heard in their year together.

“Jesus Christ” he breathes out.

“Alpha.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops.


	5. Alpha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you have any choice this time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, guys. I'm blown away by your response to this, and to my fevered scribbles in general. Thank you all so much! If I haven't responded to your comments, it's because someone *side eyes adult son* used up my internet quota for the month, and now I've been shaped , which means my net is slow as fuck.  
> But I appreciate each and every comment I get, rest assured.  
> On with the show!

Peter shifts back, looking at Stiles, chin tipped back in a challenge.

Stiles meets Peter’s eye.

“Twenty questions” he orders, in a tone that brooks no argument.

Peter looks like he’s gaining control of himself a little, and Stiles tilts his head back and gives him access to his throat, knowing that scenting him will help anchor Peter.

A muffled “fine” comes out from where Peter’s immediately started nuzzling at his neck. Stiles knows his wolf side needs it.

“Did you have any choice this time?”

Peter shakes his head, not growling now, the wolf calming at the scent of his lover.  “I made it back, rabbit. I did what had to be done. It was him or me.”

As Stiles waits, he continues to speak. “The whole thing was a nightmare. In the finish the only way to end the challenge was to end the Alpha, and nobody else had the…. stomach for it. I wouldn’t blame you if you walked away, Stiles” he finishes, bitterly.

Stiles sighs. He can see that Peter means it, that he genuinely thinks that this is going to be the end of them.

He pulls Peter in closer, arms locked securely around him, running his hands down the wolf’s back, shushing him and making soothing noises.

 

”Firstly, I hate to break it to you, but you were already a killer before. Oh god, that sounds terrible. But it’s true, I mean how many times have you tried to kill me? Jesus, that sounds worse, we’re a real love story for the ages, right? “

 He huffs out a small laugh, before continuing “In the harsh light of day this makes me sound like _really terrible_ person, but I didn’t care before, and I don’t care now. It’s not like you wanted to, right?”

Peter shakes his head, still not looking Stiles in the eye.

Stiles continues to stroke Peter’s back, saying “Then nothing changes, we’re still getting married in eight days. I mean, I’ve paid for the suits.”

 Peter snorts, head still buried in the crook of Stiles’ neck.

 Stiles asks another question, just to be sure that Peter gets it, gets that they’re really OK.

 “Hey Wolfman. When we’re married, does this mean you’ll be my Alpha now?”

Peter lifts his head slowly, and looks, really looks at Stiles. He sees big brown trusting eyes, looking at him with no judgement, no fear, only affection. He lets out a deep breath.

“Yes it does, Stiles” he answers, his wolf calming at the realization that Stiles won’t leave him, the tension leaving his voice, replaced with a teasing quality.

“Will you be an obedient pack member for me, rabbit?”

“Doesn’t seem likely, I haven’t managed it so far “Stiles answers blithely.

 

They both grin at the same time.

“Now come to bed, Big Bad, I’ve never had an _Alpha_ in me before” Stiles says in a sultry tone that has all Peter’s senses tingling, and it has been a very long ten days for both of them, after all.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

The next morning, they finally, finally leave their big bed, but only after Stiles pins Peter down and asks him what the _actual fuck_ was the deal with the letter to the solicitors and all the cloak and dagger bullshit? Why not just call him and say “Hey, not dead, home tomorrow?’

Peter explains to him that after taking out the Alpha of the other pack, he wasn’t sure if they would seek retribution, and he didn’t want Stiles to be a target. Going through the solicitors was a way of keeping Stiles safe, off the radar. The extra days delay was because he had spent time dealing with the remainder of what was technically his pack, but was actually two middle aged accountants and a pianist. Peter had successfully managed to negotiate for them to join the pack he had been helping.

“And now,  rabbit” he purrs “I’m no longer on call for these types of things. Alphas don’t help out in that way. We’re above being the hired muscle, apparently.” 

Stiles grouses that he still thinks it was a dick move, and slides out of Peter’s grip even as the wolf tries to bring him in for more snuggling, and possibly more sex. Their night of passion after ten days away has wrecked Stiles, and he’s having none of it.

Peter was insatiable.

Stiles assures Peter, as he packs himself a bag, that he doesn’t need to freak out, Stiles isn’t leaving him, but that he’s going to stay at his Dad’s for the week until the wedding.

Tradition.

And also, he admits, after last night, he wants a chance to recover, both from the pounding his ass took, and from the hand prints on his hips, and the pretty circle of bruises that Peter sucked into his throat. 

 

To quote him  “I know you can’t keep your paws to yourself, and I’m damned if I’m getting married covered in hickeys, and also I think you actually broke my ass - _five times_ I took your cock Peter _, five fucking times_ , and my dick has actual chafing from where you couldn’t leave me alone, and I’m honest to God limping, stop laughing, asshole, and did your dick get bigger with becoming an Alpha? Because it _feels_ bigger- wait, don’t tell me, Read The Damned Book Stiles, _stop fucking laughing -_ you know what, screw you, I’m going home without giving you a goodbye blowjob after all.”

But there’s no heat in his words, and he’s smiling even as he rants and flails at Peter.

Peter smiles hugely, because God, he’s missed this. Their marriage can’t come soon enough.

 And wait till Stiles sees his new knot.

 

When Scott flies in, home for a whole week, he and Stiles talk long into the night about exactly what the Damn Book says, because reading it is one thing, but living it is another, and Scotty, he’s lived it, from the bite, to losing Alison, becoming a True Alpha, all that weird shit they dealt with in high school, and he’s managed to survive it all intact.

So has Stiles, but he needs a wolf’s input on this. They talk about why Scott refuses to date humans, and about whether he ever regrets the bite.

Stiles reveals Peter’s Alpha status to Scott, who already knew. Turns out Peter had called him to get permission to take the rogue Alpha out – werewolves have a specific etiquette for these things. They talk about what it means for Stiles.

Stiles asks Scott to join him for his appointment the next day. Scott replies “Of course bro, you did the same for me”, smiling his crooked smile.

The conversation somehow turns to Scott’s “celebrity status”. Stiles spends an unholy amount of time mocking him, as best friends do ( Scotty, how have you not realised they manage to get your shirt off _every single episode_? I swear you shouldn’t be out there unsupervised!)  until their fits of laughter are interrupted by the Sheriff calling out to them to get their asses to bed before he comes out there, dammit, a man needs his sleep and he has a gun.

 

Stiles has a lot to think about, and the next day, laying on the table in the tattoo shop, with the buzz of the needle strangely calming, he finds his mind drifting over the events of the last week.

He reflects on how he felt when he thought he’d lost Peter.

He reflects on two hundred years vs eighty five.

He thinks about how his Dad was when he lost his Mom.

He thinks about wolves, and marriage, and mating.

He thinks a little about how they’ll be spending their honeymoon in a week’s time. A week alone in the cabin.

He’s on the table for eight hours, Scotty draining the pain when he needs it, but it’s not too bad, although the words running around his ribs hurt like a bitch.

By the time the artist is finished, Stiles is sure about what he wants to do.

He was going to ask Scott, but now he doesn’t have to, Peter can give him what he wants.

He hopes Peter wants it too.

 

 


	6. At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a bucks night, of sorts, a little matchmaking, and a wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, next time I write something, I'm gonna stick to a posting schedule. This was meant to be spread out over two weeks, but I'm weak in the face of your pleading. I really gotta toughen up, guys.

They forgo the traditional buck's night, but they do go out to the club to celebrate. Jordan and Noah are there, as well as Derek, Cora and and Scott, along with others. Melissa and Chris Argent even come down for a while. 

Derek laughs long and hard when he hears how they came to own Jungle.

“You bought a nightclub because Stiles got punched in the face. Just so you could ban the asshole who did it. And then you turned said club from a gay club into a Gay Were Pole Dancing Club. Fuck me, Peter, you never did do things by halves,“ he snorts out.

Peter laughs right along with him as he reveals that since they took over, their takings have doubled, and on the nights Peter dances, they’ve tripled.

Turns out the tradesman’s throwaway comment to Peter had been right on the money. The customers love it.

Peter takes to the stage about once a week, because he revels in the attention. He also has about a dozen other Were pole dancers on his books.

(Stiles had enjoyed supervising the audition process immensely.)

 

Tonight, Peter dances, flexing and twisting his way sinuously through “Pour Some Sugar On Me”.

 

Noah can’t look away, breathing out a quiet “Hot Damn, Son.” to Stiles.

“I know, right?” Stiles breathes back, as they both watch with identical glazed expressions. 

Parrish looks at the Sheriff’s face, and quietly decides that pole dancing is a skill he needs to acquire, as soon as possible.

 

For the first time since his dalliance with alcohol while Peter was away, Stiles actually feels like a drink, and doesn’t take long for the shots to affect him. Because drunk Stiles is predictable, he soon starts asking Jordan about hellhound anatomy. Until finally, Jordan simply leans into him and whispers ‘In our case, it isn’t really applicable.”

He waits for Stiles to catch up.

It takes a minute, and then Stiles says “Ohhhhh. Wait, what?  Never? Not even once?” Jordan shrugs, and replies “Nope, always a catcher, never a pitcher. Not interested. What we’ve got is too damn good” and he smiles a slow, secret smile at the Sheriff, and it’s so sweet that Stiles is distracted and he only realises later that Jordan _still_ never answered his question, dammit.

 

It’s a steady night at the club, nothing out of ordinary, until Scotty, bless his naïve heart,  tweets pictures of himself with the hashtags  #AlphaVet #bestman #bestbro #bucksnight #loveislove #Beaconhills #Jungle #Comesayhi  …..Followed by the club’s address.

They have to start turning people away shortly after that. Nobody is surprised, except Scott, who is genuinely clueless as to his appeal.

The crush of fans results in Scotty doing an hour long  impromptu meet and greet, Peter and Derek forced to flank him as bodyguards, as suddenly there’s a huge crowd of people waiting to meet with him, talk to him, and to his embarrassment, proposition him.

Scott goes with it, mugging for the camera, giving hugs, chatting and buying drinks for his fans, and it’s the most bizarre thing Stiles has ever seen, because he could swear Scott’s horse whispering the goddam crowd. They all wait happily as Scott smiles and thanks them for their patience, and it’s more like a book signing at Barnes and Noble than a nightclub.

Sure, one or two of them try and get a little handsy, but Derek’s very quick to put a stop to anyone who goes too far, his regular stony faced expression deepening.

He actually growls at one guy when he hugs Scott for a second too long and grabs his ass, and oh, how interesting is that? Stiles shoots Peter a look. Peter arches an eyebrow back that says yes, he saw that too.

 

When the club finally closes and the last of the fans straggle out, Scott comes over to Stiles looking sheepish. “Man, I’m so sorry Stiles, this was your night, and I didn’t realise there would be so many people, and I didn’t want to disappoint them, and I really didn’t think anyone would turn up, I mean, I don’t get it.”

Stiles laughs long and loud, and tells him “Dude, that was the most entertaining thing I’ve seen in forever. Seriously though, how did you not know that would happen? I swear Scotty, you are the _worst_ at this! You need your own bodyguard”.

Scott admits that it’s not the first time he’s been told that.

Management has been on his case for a while. As an openly bi Werewolf his fan mail is an even split of threats of burning in hell, proposals, (both marriage and indecent), and dick pics.

Peter comes back from locking up, and intones smoothly “Derek could do it”.

Derek’s eyebrows raise in surprise, and his mouth opens a little, before he gathers himself and answers a little too quickly, “Yeah, I’d do you. Do that. For you. I’m available. For you, I mean. Definitely. ”

And Stiles nudges things right along by adding “He could fly out to LA and around the place with you Scotty, he’s pretty enough to fit right in. He could model.”

Scott’s looking directly at Derek when he answers “Yeah, yeah he is. I mean he could. I mean he would.  I mean, if you wanted to, you’d be doing me. I mean, you’d be doing me a solid, man”.

And just like that, it’s a done deal.

 (Sometimes Peter and Stiles like to use their troll powers for good, OK? And those two idiots have pined for long enough.)

 

Before they leave, because they have the place to themselves and they feel like it, they play around on the poles a little more.

Peter’s just showing off. Nobody should be able to put their leg over their head like that.

 Derek’s a natural, nobody is surprised. Scott watches avidly, and then matches him move for move on the other pole, grinning.

Stiles is abysmal but enthusiastic, swinging around like a child in a playground until Peter bodily lifts him down “before you hurt yourself, rabbit”.

Noah doesn’t even try, preferring to watch.

Jordan watches, takes off his shirt, flexes, successfully extends his body sideways and swings around enough to work up a sweat, and then abs glistening, quietly asks Peter for lessons.

Noah doesn’t hear him, but the weres do, and smile quietly to themselves.

Peter and Stiles neck a little (read a _lot)_ in the car park, because they’re both desperate and horny as all fuck. Peter thinks he’s getting somewhere as he grinds them together with a groan, but as soon as he tries to get his hands up under Stiles’ shirt, Stiles pulls away sharply, and insists that he doesn’t trust Peter not to mark him before the big day tomorrow.

He promises it’ll be worth the wait.

Peter refuses to give him a ride home since he’s not putting out.

Stiles doesn’t care, because he’s _so_ close to pulling off his surprise, the blue balls he has after a week staying with his dad, sharing a room with Scott, and having zero privacy are almost worth it, _almost_.

(And maybe he wants Peter to suffer a little after the whole disappearing act. Sue him. He never said he was a good person.)

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

They get married in a clearing in the preserve.

Stiles wears his red suit, with Scott as his best man.

 Peter wears graphite, with Derek as his.

 As Stiles predicted, the suits look phenomenal.

They walk up the aisle hand in hand, to the strains of “At Last” by Etta James, because both agree you can’t beat the classics.

They wear soft looks as they glance at each other.

They exchange vows, keeping it simple because Stiles knows he probably going to cry and who wants to be sobbing through ten minutes of vows?

He simply states, “I love you Peter Hale. You caught me – I’m yours.”

Peter replies “I love you Stiles Stilinski. Now I’ve caught you, I’m not letting you go.”

And then Stiles grins, and he runs. And Peter chases him, in the wolf tradition, and when he catches him mere moments later, after a token sprint around the clearing, he scents him as Stiles extends his neck back to give him access.

That part of the ceremony has come from the Damn Book, and Stiles knows that if he was a wolf, Peter would be biting a mating mark on his neck, but in this version of events, Peter simply nuzzles into his throat, sniffing deeply and murmuring “Love you, Mieczyslaw.”

Stiles does start to cry then, face wet with tears at Peter’s tender tone. God, he adores this man.

 When Peter raises his face from Stiles neck, Stiles pulls him in for a kiss, and the guests applaud loudly.

The Minister pronounces them Man and Wolf (Peter groans, Stiles smirks), they sign the paperwork, and they’re married.

Cora makes a joke about Scott and Derek being obliged to hook up. They laugh a little too much at that, and smile at each other shyly.

 

Before they know it, the photos have been taken, and they’ve been hustled off to BBW for the reception.

(Peter had objected at first, reminding Stiles that they could afford to go somewhere classy. “I don’t want somewhere classy,Peter. I want somewhere _us”_ had been Stiles’ compelling argument. Peter had caved).

Then it’s food, and toasts, and mingling and dancing.

They’re slow dancing , whispering endearments to each other, looking into each other’s eyes,  and OK, maybe they’re slow grinding … and suddenly Peter is whispering “If we don’t get out of here now Stiles, I’m going to end up fucking you over the buffet. It’s been a damn _week_ ”.

All the werewolves present hear, and snicker into their drinks.

They barely hold out until the end of the song, before Peter loudly thanks their guests, and announces that he and his husband are leaving for a good night’s sleep, as he winks and the guests laugh knowingly.

As they leave, they see Derek standing next to Scott, his hand tucked into the small of the True Alpha’s back, and subtly sneaking lower.  “Security guard, right” snickers Stiles, knowing they’ll hear him. Scott shoots him a grin, and Derek a sheepish look.

He’s happy for them.

As weddings go, it’s pretty drama free, and they couldn’t be happier.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alphavet is loosely based on this Australian vet celebrity. It's Scott, right?
> 
> http://www.22.com.au/client/dr-chris-brown/
> 
> http://www.bodyandsoul.com.au/health/celebrity-profiles/dr-chris-brown-on-his-happy-place-having-kids-and-getting-naked/news-story/a00b47d343a71813722ba7b841312778


	7. Body Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter sees Stiles' ink. Stiles asks Peter a question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fiiine, I'm posting the rest of this, because otherwise I'll edit it into oblivion. Characters are doing things they aren't meant to, at this stage Peter is the most cooperative of the lot, and man, that's saying something.  
> _______________________________________________________________________________

As they drive out to the cabin, Peter notices that Stiles seems to be getting steadily more anxious, twitching, drumming his fingers, fidgeting with his tie.

He keeps his counsel however, because he knows by now that silence is the best way to get anything out of Stiles.

As they pull into the driveway at the cabin, he whispers “We’re here, husband,” and oh, that sounds so good.

He grins as he carries Stiles over the threshold, and sets him down in their bedroom. He’s had a new bed delivered, the twin of the giant round one in at ~~his~~ their place.

He goes to draw Stiles in for a kiss, but suddenly his husband is shy, eyes downcast, and he’s definitely nervous now.

He raises Stiles’ head with a hand gently under his jaw, and asks “What’s going on darling? Wedding night jitters?”

And Stiles tenses up.

At that, so does Peter.

“I did a thing” Stiles blurts out. “I did a thing and I hope to God you like it and I’m terrified you won’t”.

Peter shushes him gently, and waits. Stiles seems to be frozen in place though, so Peter cheats.

He lets a little Alpha sneak into his tone and growls out **“Tell me”.**

Stiles starts a little, and then his hands are at his tie, loosening it slowly.

The tie comes off, then the suit jacket, Stiles folding it carefully before he deliberately removes the matching vest. He hesitates, and then unbuttons his cuffs.

At roughly the speed of a glacier, he untucks his shirt, letting the tails drop.

Peter’s wolf is quivering with anticipation. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he can sense it’s important.

Stiles unbuttons his shirt, slowly, slowly, and the buttons part and Peter can see his chest, and he catches glimpses of something dark across his pecs and up over his shoulders.

Finally, slowly, sensually, Stiles shrugs his shirt back off his shoulders, and Peter sees exactly what Stiles was nervous about.

Stiles got ink.

Stiles got ink, and it’s _breathtaking._

It’s a hand and an arm, done in beautiful greyscale, in a 3D effect. The arm is reaching over his right shoulder, and it comes across his body and ends up with the hand  placed over his heart. Stile’s left nipple is framed by the V of the fingers and thumb.

It looks eerily familiar – Peter’s seen that arm in that position in selfies, in mirrors.

It’s exactly where Peter’s arm rests when he pulls Stiles in for an embrace, or when he wraps his arms around him in their bed.

It’s his arm. He’d recognize it anywhere.

It’s an absolute masterpiece.

Peter’s breath hitches. He’s speechless.

 

He reaches his hand out to touch, and Stiles warns him “careful, it’s a little fresh.”

Peter brushes just the tips of his fingers over the tattoo reverently, and it’s like he sees double for a moment, his hand and his hand.

He’s mesmerized, and it must show in his face.

Peter croons “ Sweetheart, I love it. It’s the best wedding present you could have given me”

Stiles breathes out in relief. 

“But how did you get the whole thing so perfect?”  Peter is still fascinated, still stroking.

Stiles grins. “When you were so damn happy about marking me up the day we got engaged, I started thinking about it. Took photos of your hands while you were asleep.”

“Smart rabbit “Peter murmurs into his shoulder.  “But why get it done the week before our wedding?”

Here Stiles fidgets a little.

And then says  “um….because there’s more?”

Peter is distracted from tracing his fingers over Stiles chest, and looks at him inquiringly.

“I didn’t know how else to ask” Stiles whispers.

 

And he raises his right arm and shows Peter the fine line of script running in a straight line round the bottom of his ribs.

Two tiny words, in Stiles’ handwriting.

 

**_Bite me_ **

****

That’s all.

 

All the breath leaves Peter’s body as he sees it, because what Stiles is asking, it’s so big, and it’s not something they’ve ever discussed, but his rabbit has always been quick, and of _course_ he’d make the connection between Peter being an Alpha and this _._

“Peter? Say something? Please?” Stiles pleads, and his voice lilts up in entreaty.

Peter asks, as he gently strokes his fingers over the tiny words, his boy’s gorgeous ink, “Why would you willingly do this darling? You’ve said no before, remember.”

Stiles replies, “Honestly? Because _I read the damn book, Peter._ You have a 200 year life span. It would be me getting older, you staying the same, while I age and crumble. Me leaving you alone, in the end. Because I’m human.

Do you know why Scott won’t date humans? It’s because he can’t stand the thought of being left behind, of going through what he did with Alison. He’d sooner stay alone than be left alone. And I don’t want to do that to you. I want to grow old with you.”

Peter looks at him, dumbstruck.

Stiles continues, “It’s a week till the full moon, the timing’s perfect. I‘ve been thinking about this since you went on your damned trip, and I read the Damned Book. I was going to ask Scott to turn me, but now you’re an Alpha, and we’re here alone for a week, you can bite me and I’ll turn and by the time the honeymoon is over, we could be _actual mates_ , Peter.”  His eyes are burning with intensity as he pleads his case.

Peter growls a little at the thought of Scott biting Stiles.

And his wolf is scrambling to come out, desperate to surge forward and _bite_ , and _claim._

But this is something there’s no coming back from, so he wants to be sure.

“Rabbit, this is huge, what you’re asking me.  I can’t just say yes. I need to know you’ve thought this through. You seem so sure, aren’t you even a little afraid of the bite?”

“Honestly Peter? You’re asking me if I’m _afraid?_ Since we started seeing each other, the only damn times I’ve been afraid is when I thought I was losing you, and when I thought you were off getting yourself killed. If I’ve got you, I can deal with the rest.”

And Peter thinks back over their relationship, and he realizes that Stiles is right. Every step of the way, he’s been the one willing to go further, to try more, to make them more. He’s never hesitated even once.

He makes his decision.

He chooses his words carefully.  “Stiles, sweetheart, I would be honored to take you as my mate. My wolf would love to turn you. And if, _if,_ you can promise me you’ve read the whole Damn Book, cover to cover, and understand the risks and the consequences, then I’ll happily give you the bite. But are you really sure? Can you promise me that, little rabbit?”

And Stiles nods.

“Yes” he whispers.

Peter moves forwards and kisses him gently. Stiles kisses him back. They hold each other gently, swaying, almost dancing, an echo of their wedding reception. There’s nothing more to say, for now, and they just need the touch and the warmth.

Peter’s fingers creep back to Stiles’ tattoo absently, and he strokes it with wonder in his face. Stiles did this for him.

“Glad you like the ink, _husband_ ,” Stiles says, trying out the word, rolling it on his tongue. He likes it. “Wanted to get it done before you said yes to giving me the bite, because I saw Scott get his tattoo done with a blow torch, and nope, not doing that.  So if there’s anything else you want to see on this hot body, let me get it done before you bite me. That _was_ a yes I heard, you _are_ going to bite me, right?” he looks hopeful.

And this is really not how Peter imagined their wedding night would go, so he smiles and nods. Time to get things back on track.

“Yes darling, I am. But not tonight.”

He growls lowly into Stile’s ear “Tonight, I take you to bed, and I take you apart, like a good husband should, and I make you come until you’re so fucked out you can’t stand. It’s been _a week_ , Stiles”

Stiles whimpers. It’s a beautiful sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is purely for a visual on the placement of that tatt.  
> https://au.pinterest.com/pin/409968372301315244/


	8. A gratuitous chapter of honeymoon sex.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ^^ What it says on the tin. Please note the updated tags!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Throws confetti* Smut for everyone! Whee!!

Stiles whimpers and it’s a beautiful sound.

”Yes please.” he whispers.

Then he slides his hands under the shoulders of Peter’s suit jacket and eases it off. He steps back a little so he can slowly unbutton his vest and slide that off too.

He slips Peter’s tie off, and then unbuttons his cuffs, before starting to undo the buttons on the shirt. Peter goes to help, but Stiles shoos his hands away.

“It’s been a week for me too, let me savour this” he murmurs gently, as he continues to gently strip Peter down.

He’s eased Peter’s red shirt off now, dropping it on the floor, and they’re both bare chested. Peter’s hands continue to stroke at the words on Stile’s side, and he cocks his head to the side, considering.

“You know rabbit, this is entirely your choice, but you did say if there was anything else I wanted to see, and I think you’d enjoy it too…”he starts, and Stiles hums as he starts nibbling Peter’s neck. Peter leans forwards and whispers in his ear “If you got your nipples pierced first, they’d heal up once you took the bite”.

There’s a sharp intake of breath from Stiles as Peter pinches gently at his left nipple while he speaks. 

“Oh shit yeah, I’ll get them done tomorrow. Bite me after”

And hearing it so casually stated, as if it’s no big thing for Stiles to offer to become a supernatural creature and all that entails, because he loves Peter, that drives him wild, and he hoists Stiles up and over his shoulder and carries him to the bed.

He pulls off both of their suit pants, eager to get them naked, and then covers Stiles with the full length of his body as he starts to kiss him passionately.

He’s careful not to lean too hard against the fresh tattoo, even as Stiles assures him it’s fine, it’s been a week.

“Is this the reason you left me for a week Stiles? To hide this? “Peter asks.

‘Partly’ Stiles hedges, “and partly because I really didn’t trust you to mark me up…. And maybe a tiny bit of revenge for leaving me hanging for ten days. I honest to God thought you were dead when I got that call from an unknown number Peter, you scared the crap out of me “he grumbles.

Peter coos out an apology, saying “Please darling, let me show you how sorry I am that I ever had to leave you”

He starts by rolling Stiles over, and laying gentle kisses all down his spine. He then grabs the oil from the bedside table, and proceeds to massage his back, ass and leg muscles with long strokes, firm and sure. He spends time on the knots in Stile’s calves, and the taut arches of his feet. He tells Stiles how gorgeous he is, what a fine wolf he’ll make, how fast he’ll be as a werewolf, what a challenge it will be to catch him when they run in the woods. He tells him that he’ll feel and see and smell everything more intensely, that if he thinks the sex is good now, wait till he has enhanced senses. He murmurs about how good it will be for Stiles when he has werewolf healing, how they’ll _really_ be able to play rough.

Stiles moans, both in appreciation of the massage, and anticipation of his new life.

“Damn, Peter, if you’d sold it to me like that the first time you asked, I probably would have said yes” he sighs out.

Peter shakes his head. “No rabbit. I’m glad you said no. This way it means more”

By now he’s massaged his way back up to the nape of Stile’s neck, and is running his fingers gently up and down. He rolls Stiles over once again, and begins to kiss and mark him, starting with his throat and working down once again, but this time his oil slicked hand wraps around Stile’s hard length, gently pumping up and down. He starts to bite and lick at his nipples and torso, earning a squeak from his husband. He bites down a little harder, not quite bruising, and earns cursing instead. He grins, and begins to torture Stiles in earnest, one hand moving up and down his cock, his mouth teething at his nipples, the other hand on Stiles’ hip, holding him in place as he tries to buck away.

By the time he’s satisfied with the pattern of markings that he’s left on Stiles’ body, his husband is writhing and moaning under him, his relaxed state from the earlier massage gone now. “Please Peter, please” he pants out. Peter takes pity on him and lines their bodies up together, gripping them both in one slick hand and stroking them together. Stiles is on a knife edge, and it’s not long before they come together, both gasping as they let go.

 Breaking the silence that follows, Stiles says “God I love this bed” and grins, and that’s when Peter notices that they are nowhere near where they started out, the pillows are gone, and somehow Stile’s ass is actually on the edge of the bed. And really, he thinks, that’s just an invitation.

 Looking at his lover’s body covered with his marks, it takes no time at all for him to get hard again, and so he slips off the side of the bed between Stile’s sprawled legs, putting them over his shoulders, and starts sucking marks onto the inside of Stile’s thighs, before moving further up and laving at his balls with his tongue. That gets him a twitch of interest from Stiles, even as he moans “It’s too soon Peter, I can’t”.  Peter ignores him and goes back to licking and sucking, finally taking him deep in his throat, stimulating him to full hardness in next to no time. “Oh I think you can, husband” he replies, even as he watches Stiles grow harder in front of his eyes. “You have such a pretty cock darling, I think I want to swallow it” he croons, and then he does. He takes Stiles deep in his throat with no hesitation, and sucks and licks and hums until he can feel how close Stiles is. He starts to massage gently around his rim as he swallows him down, before slipping a finger inside. The dual stimulation is too much for Stiles, who comes again, swearing loudly.

Peter doesn’t pull off when he comes, just swallows everything down.

He continues to finger Stiles, who is panting now, stretching him out gently, preparing him to take his cock inside. He wants to slide in easily tonight.

He suddenly feels a hand tugging in his hair.

“ Hey Peter, come up here, I want to talk to you” demands Stiles. Peter looks at him from between his legs, surprised.

“Here. Now” Stiles pats the bed next to him, and Peter complies, more from curiosity than obedience. His cock is bobbing, heavy and full between his legs. He’s only come once and it’s been a _week_ , and he can’t imagine what they have to discuss that can’t wait.

As he climbs onto the bed, Stiles reaches out and starts stroking his length, and so far he likes this discussion, but then suddenly Stiles stops with Peter’s cock laid out in his hand, looks at it, and exclaims “Motherfucker! I knew it!” pointing accusingly. Peter gives him an eyebrow in response.

“It’s at least two inches bigger, and it’s fucking thicker as well! No wonder my ass hurt last week! “Stiles says accusingly.   ”Right. Cards on the table Wolfman. Anything _else_ I need to know about now you’re an alpha?” he stares at Peter, and Peter knows exactly what he’s referring to, even as he strokes the small but clearly visible swelling at the base of his shaft.

“Don’thavetochangetoknot” he says quickly, and hopes vainly for an asteroid or some other distraction to turn up.

“Sorry what was that exactly? Don’t have to what? Speak clearly Alpha” Stiles demands.

Peter clears his throat, and tries for a professional tone. “Alpha wolves don’t have to shift in order to knot, they have full control of their knot, and it’s about half the size again of a regular knot. It is not recommended that an Alpha knot his partner without extensive preparation and training, lest there be damage caused to their partners’ body. With time and adequate preparation, an Alpha’s knot can be an intensely pleasurable experience for all involved, as long as full consent is given and received by both parties “he recites, parrot-like.

Stiles is looking at him, eyes narrowed, and he asks, “Why does that sound like you’re reciting a sex education pamphlet from high school, Peter?’’

“Because I am, Stiles” Peter admits. “Honestly, I have every intention of discussing this with you before we go there; it’s a big thing, knotting as an Alpha”

Stiles snickers “Big thing”.

“You’re a child” Peter states fondly.

“Yup”agrees Stiles cheerfully. “Honestly, I was just curious what it looks like now, your new magic alpha dick, and I knew if I let you get any more fingers in my ass I’d be past any kind of conversation, so I  figured we could take a few minutes now before I get you to fuck me into the mattress, if you’re down for that. “

Peter laughs, and shakes his head.

Then Stiles pulls him in for hungry kisses, and all thought of talking goes out the window.

Peter rolls Stiles over onto his back and goes back to teasing his rim, even adding a few licks, though that’s not something either of them are really sold on. He presses two fingers in and out smoothly, brushing over Stile’s prostate constantly as he presses his fingers in to the second knuckle. Stiles just lays there and takes it, stroking his cock,moaning as loudly as he likes because he’s on his honeymoon in the middle of the woods, who’s going to hear? Peter works his way up to three fingers, rolling and stretching out Stiles rim, crooning about how good he’s going to make this. When he presses his pinkie in, Stiles honest to God shrieks in pleasure at the feeling of fullness and stretch,and the persistent pressure on his prostate, and as Peter moves his hand in and out, he moans and sobs and keens, until with a final tug at his cock he’s coming for a third time.

“Oh fuck me, Peter ”he gasps out exhausted.

Peter deadpans “if you insist, darling” and he does.

The slide in is just as smooth and delicious as he’d hoped for, and he can feel the velvety walls of Stile’s ass clench and flutter as he comes down from his orgasm. He slips smoothly in and out in slow, firm strokes, taking his time, enjoying the sight of Stile’s flushed face and body, the way his eyes are rolling back in his head. He pumps in and out a little more firmly, building up a little more pace, and beneath him he can hear Stiles gently grunting with the impact every time he drives in, a breathy  unh,  unh, unh unh - Peter doesn’t even think he knows he’s doing it, but it drives Peter wild.

As Peter rocks in and out, fucking into Stiles steadily, he looks again at the tattoo in front of him. The sight of the ink on his husband’s skin fills him with a sudden rush of passion, and he starts to drive in harder, faster. Stiles is rocking back against him now, still making those noises, unh, unh, unh, unh, and it’s like they’re completely in tune with each other, no words needed.

Peter hitches Stiles legs over his shoulders, driving in deeper, harder, and the change in angle causes Stiles to moan deeply, breathing out “Oh. Oh, yeah….more” and he starts to clench around Peter’s length, which causes Peter to speed up even more, even as he feels his release approaching.  He has a sudden flash of what it will be like making love when they are both wolves, and that thought is what finally causes him to reach his peak. He feels the knot trying to swell, so he pulls out quickly even as he’s still coming, hot spurts hitting Stiles on the ass and legs, and he exercises every ounce of his alpha control, breathing heavily, and finally he can feel it softening.

His wolf is pouting, but Peter doesn’t care.

He hears a moan from Stiles, who is still sprawled on the bed.  

“Fuck, Peter, so good,“ he sighs. “Nap now, then wall sex later, husband? Need to see how deep that Alpha dick can go when you slam me down on it” he says, grinning, even as he lays there, barely moving.

A nap does sound good.

Peter has always admired his new husband’s excellent planning skills, he reflects later, as he fucks him hard and fast against the wall.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand we're done!  
> Just a question, do we want to see what happens the next day?


End file.
